


shirt thief

by bickz



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Drabble, Fluff, Gen, No Plot/Plotless, Sharing Clothes, Short & Sweet, pining ryuji
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-10
Updated: 2020-01-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:41:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22191970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bickz/pseuds/bickz
Summary: Who wouldn't want to nab one of Ryuji's sick tees??
Kudos: 26





	shirt thief

**Author's Note:**

> just a short and silly lil something for my friend, alex!
> 
> (GOD i wish i had more time and energy to write more for the boys /sobs )

To say that Ryuji gets angry rather easily is a severe understatement -- he’s just angry all the time, thank you very much.

And today is no exception. Akira (and consequently, Morgana) is quite rudely awoken by his phone going absolutely berserk with rapid-fire notifications on this early Sunday morning, all of the texts coming from a disgruntled Ryuji. Bleary-eyed, Akira struggles to read the texts before a new one pops up, further disorientating the sleepy boy. He yawns, bemused as he reads “FRICK. IM COMING OVER. IM SO EFFING PISSED!!” 

_ Wonderful. _ This is just how Akira wanted to spend his day off. He reluctantly sits up and stretches, knowing that there’s nothing he or anyone else can do to prevent the whirlwind that is his best friend. In just a few minutes, Ryuji will be excusing his was into Leblanc, all polite smiles and bows to Sojiro before he barrels his way upstairs to all but scream about his current irritation to Akira with no regards for privacy. For some reason, he can’t help smiling.

Right on cue, Akira (still in bed, mind you) hears those telltale footsteps coming up the steps, all frantic and uncoordinated. He turns to face a breathless Ryuji just as he enters the bedroom proper, already going off about...whatever it is that he’s upset about. To be honest, Akira didn’t bother to actually read the texts (or rather, he couldn’t do so without putting on his glasses, which are oh so far away from his warm, cozy bed); he knows that Ryuji’s anger switches from one thing to another so quick that trying to keep up would result in eternal whiplash. 

“--stolen my shit,  _ again _ ! I can’t believe Ann! Every single effing week another one -- just  _ gone _ !” Ryuji shouts, much too loud considering the small attic room. He stomps across the floor and flops onto the bed, earning himself a hiss from Morgana before he flees downstairs in annoyance. “It’s just plain rude, don’t you think?”  _ Oh, the irony _ .

Akira blinks slowly, still only half-awake and listlessly trying to follow what Ryuji is going off about. “Uh, sure?” he yawns, reaching up to scratch the back of his head.

Ryuji frowns. He opens his mouth, probably to admonish Akira for his indifference, but then his gaze wanders down, and his eyes all but bulge out of his skull. “ _ Is that my shirt _ ?!”

“Hm?” And as Akira follows his friend’s gaze, down to the signature bright yellow shirt he wore to bed, it all makes sense suddenly. “ _ Oh _ …”

“You  _ asshole _ ,” Ryuji chuckles nervously, his scowl quickly melting into a shaky grin. “ _ You’ve _ been stealing my shirts?”

“Well,  _ you’re  _ the one that’s been leaving them here. How could I resist?” Akira gives a smirk, knowing full well what this is doing to his friend.

There’s a deep flush creeping across Ryuji’s cheeks, and he tries to play it cool by looking out the window and grumbling something about personal property or whatever, not so subtly leaning himself away from Akira. 

Akira just smiles wider. “Y’know, you’re cute when you’re angry.”


End file.
